The Noxus Chronicles
by Quibbleflux
Summary: Noxus is a city that has survived based on the principle that only the strongest survive, those who can prove their strength achieve much power with the city. These are the tales of some of the most powerful entities in Noxus and how they clash, collide and interact.


Brinkley sat in his sitting room, silent as the grave, and stared hard at the letter in his hand. The Demacian seal, albeit broken upon his opening it, still stood out like a beacon in the dim light and Brinkley felt as if dozens of eyes were scrutinizing it from the shadows behind him. The presence of that seal alone in his home would bring death upon him if anyone knew about it, let alone the contents of the letter itself.

He quietly read over the letter for the twelfth time that evening since it had arrived on his doorstep. The words within were simple and the nobleman had a feeling dozens of similar letters were sent out from Demacia each and every day: a very officially worded note from miscellaneous Demacian officials thanking him for his service to their city and offering him the hefty sum of gold coins that had arrived along with the paper itself. They sat still in their leather pouch on the table beside him.

It wasn't like he had done anything particularly treacherous. Using some of his influence he had merely found some details on a few Noxian operations taking place near Demacia and took it upon himself to turn it into profit. Survival of the strongest was the Noxian creed; surely being clever enough to profit from loose lips was forgivable, even if it did mean a few men lost their lives. That was how the world was, after all; men died so others could prosper.

Brinkly could use that money to finally pay off the debts he owed, sell his manor and use the money from the sale to leave this wretched and dangerous city behind. He was not cut out for this kind of stress. He was quite adept at navigating the political structure and talking his way out of trouble, but such routes were becoming less and less viable every day. With the added stress his treason added he was shaving years off his life with every night spent in Noxus.

Wiping some sweat off his bare forehead in his sleeve he carefully dipped the corner of the letter into the flame of the candle he used to read it. The paper it was printed on was dry from travel and went up quickly, so he dropped it onto the platter his tea had been served on and watched it wither away. No one needed to know about his treachery until he was long gone and safe. Demacia even offered him some protection, though considering how uniform the letter had been it would hardly be reliable.

As the flame ran out of fuel and died off Brinkley decided he needed something to drink; something stronger than tea. His butler had been dismissed for the night after bringing in the tea and the large home felt empty. Even if the streets were dangerous Brinkley felt he would be safer with some nearby thugs he could pay to defend him. There were few problems in this world that money couldn't solve and with the generous donation to his dwindling wealth by Demacia he was back in power.

Brinkley grabbed his coat and blew out the candle. The fire still crackled in the hearth but it would go out on its own. As soon as he breathed in the fresh night air he felt his spirits lifted some. He glanced up and down the mostly barren street and then set out for his favorite nearby pub. It was only a few blocks away and once he turned the first corner he was among people. It didn't mean perfect safety as most of the Noxian residents looked the other way whenever someone was killed in the street, but people meant greedy pockets he could bribe.

Once he got to the pub he felt even better. Familiar faces gave him comfort and he was greeted by several other patrons in the establishment. The bartender, however, seemed to ghostly white when he saw Brinkley walk in. The nobleman walked over to him and smiled nonetheless. "What's happening, Kel, you seem like you've seen a ghost." It wasn't an unheard of phenomena but it was fairly rare outside of Zaun.

"You shouldn't be here," Kelsey, the bartender, said. He leaned in close and glanced over his shoulder before speaking lowly. "There's someone here looking for you," he murmured, and then motioned subtly to a table toward the back of the bar. Brinkley followed the motion and looked to the cloaked figure sitting alone back there. As if knowing she was being watched the female looked straight at Brinkley and his heart stopped cold.

The scar on her eye was all he needed to identify the Sinister Blade of Noxus.

"Oh shit," Brinkley said and the look Kel gave him exuded agreement. "Oh fuck, oh fuck." Panic was starting to set in very quickly as Brinkley came to understand the gravity of his situation. To have her of all people hunting him meant he was in big trouble. "Kel, you have to help me."

"The fuck do you think I can do? Whatever you did, you're on your own with her." Kelsey quickly dismissed him to prove his point and went to helping some other customers. Brinkley glanced back at the assassin, who was still staring hard at him. That gaze made his blood turn to ice. He looked away quickly and scanned the bar. He needed help fast. He ran his eyes over several likely candidates until he found a table full of men who appeared to be either soldiers or mercenaries. Three of them, all of whom looked like they could hold their own.

Brinkley moved briskly over to the table, glancing over his shoulder once. She was still staring, not moving, from the back. At the table he wasted no time pulling up a chair. "I'm in desperate need for some bodyguards tonight," he started immediately. Normally he wouldn't start so panicked, as it would cost him all of his haggling room, but he didn't care the price at that moment. "A hundred gold each if you take the job," he added.

The men, who had been enjoying a drink together and got cut off mid-story didn't look too pleased. They glanced at each other and came to some silent agreement only possible among brothers-at-arm. One of them took the position of representing the group and spoke up. "Hundred fifty each."

Brinkley could feel the stab to his purse but knew he had no room to barter. "Fine, but you'd better be worth it. This place isn't safe, we'll relocate to my house," he said, deciding suddenly being outside of his comfortable surroundings was a horrible idea. He stood up and the men walked with him with no other questions. As he moved for the door he saw the cloaked woman in the back stand up as well.

_Don't pick a fight here_, Brinkley told himself. She'd been waiting for him; no doubt she would have friends. _Wait until I'm in control of the situation,_ he decided, so instead he led the three mercenaries he'd hired back to his home. They all seemed confident in their stride, probably thinking they'd just made an easy fortune for a do-nothing contract. Brinkley had eyes on every alleyway, expecting an ambush. Instead the cloaked woman just followed them from a distance, not even attempting to hide herself.

When they arrived at the gate to his manor he glanced at her again. When they stopped she did too, standing practically in the middle of the street about a block away. "Watch that one," he ordered his bodyguards and then unlocked the gate. It squeaked open loudly and he quickly scrambled in, the guards following even as they watched the cloaked woman carefully. Putting the iron between himself and his assassin did little to ease Brinkley's beating heart, but the thick mahogany of his front door was a little better.

"Fuck the house, we need to hold up in one room," Brinkley decided. He only had three men to work with, so spreading them out was asking for failure. He decided the sitting room was the best place, since two of the walls held neither window or door, making it perhaps the safest room in the manor. He ordered them to barricade the door and then pulled a chair up into the far corner, with his back against the walls.

He wasn't sure if it was minutes or hours when she finally made her move. Brinkley awoke from his doze with a start as something crashed hard through the window. The three mercenaries drew steel immediately as a cloaked figure rose up from the shattered glass. With a chuckle the three men stalked forward, confident in their ability to take her down. As the first got near there was a flourish of steel. Red hair and the cloak fluttered about as someone grunted and the first of the three mercenaries fell down with a knife in his throat.

The other two cursed and charged forth. Again the cloaked woman whipped around, hair and cloak whirling in the air, and Brinkley saw a dagger embedded in the leg of one of the two remaining mercenaries. It hardly seemed like the blade had come from the assassin. The man grunted away the pain and continued forth. They hit the cloaked figure in a rush, the two men easily overpowering her and shoving her against the wall.

Between the two of them they easily restrained her. She squirmed and kicked but they were unmoving. "Hold on!" Brinkley called as he saw one of them about to stick her. There was something wrong about the whole situation. He got up and walked over to the wriggling woman, grabbing the cowl of the cloak and throwing it back. She had a pretty and round face and vibrant red hair, but she was unblemished, a vision of perfection aside from the defiance in her eyes; eyes that lacked a scar.

"She told me she'd kill me if I didn't do it!" the young woman said and Brinkley immediately understood his error. The understanding came as sharply to him as the pain when the blade burst from his chest, and he died immediately as the second ripped through his heart.

Katarina pulled the blades from the wretch's body and let him fall to the ground. The two mercenaries looked confused for a moment as the assassin flicked the blood from her steel. "Pathetic," she spat, then set her cold gaze on the two men. "I'm sure you can find enough to pay for your friend's funeral in here," she said, glancing around rather lavishly decorated sitting room.

"Do whatever you want with the girl," she added as she climbed out the shattered window.


End file.
